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Mihawk so rarely got a chirp on his transponder. There were precious few people who had the means to contact it.
As the psychic snail shook and chirped for his attention, he lowered his glass of wine to stare at it for a moment of hesitation. The World Government…the former warlords of the sea…and the young swordsman and the Ghost Princess.
Those were the only people in the world who had access to his private number. He prided himself on solitude, after all.
As it chirped and chirped in his hesitation, he abruptly silenced it by grabbing the receiver and answering. “Speak.”
"Mihawk." It was Crocodile's voice. Thick and curt in its greeting, with an undertone of an emotion he couldn't quite yet place. "Have you seen the news yet?"
There was always news. There was lots of news.
“I still do get the news coo out here, Crocodile.” Mihawk folded his arm against the cross that lay draped over his chest. HIs sharp eyes lidded as he stared out the window. “I’m assuming you mean the mess in Dressrosa…where the Straw Hats lead to the ridiculous flamingo’s downfall?”
"Yeah, that's the news I mean alright, Hawk," he grumbled. "Glad we're already on the same page in that case."
Mihawk identified the tone in his voice. Part of it, anyway. It was anxiety. He'd long known whenever Crocodile was particularly anxious his normally loquacious speech got clipped down to sentence fragments.
Mihawk leaned near the window watching the mist as it swirled outside the castle he’d long since stolen…curling like fingers over the sea. There were many times, once upon a time under the endless stars, that she heard Crocodile’s voice take on that quality.
Times when trouble caught up to them, mostly. Or the time just before the moment that shattered both men forever.
“Of course…it was rather surprising, wasn’t it?”
"Sure was. Almost as surprising as the first time the government threw one of the warlords in prison, eh?"
Two years ago. Crocodile meant himself, of course. When they'd thrown him into Impel Down after the same category 10 disaster that had just hit Dressrosa had hit Alabasta.
Mihawk tutted his tongue.
“It was a surprise then as it is now. “ He’d thought about visiting Crocodile in Impel Down– carving his way through the laughingstock they called a guard unit and grabbing his former captain…his former partner…from the depths of the government’s darkest secret.
The news of Crocodile’s escape hit his desk almost before he could rig his ship.
“Though I fear a lot more will be joining him soon enough.”
"Funny, that was exactly what was on my mind. I was thinking maybe you didn't want to wait for the third time to be the charm."
This was peak Crocodile behavior. He was winding Mihawk up. Dancing around an idea he was already dead set on proposing, but leading Mihawk to it, rather than just spitting it out.
“You know me…though admittedly if they dissolve the system entirely, I almost look forward to the fight of it.” Mihawk drawled, unrattled as usual by Croc’s particularities. Once upon a time he played the perfect straight man to Crocodile’s theatrics.
"Well, if you wanna keep waiting around, I won't stop you. But I was cooking up an idea. Haven't had one of those in a while, eh?"
Once upon a time, Crocodile had lots of 'ideas'. Sometimes, they'd led to something profitable. Often to something fun. Always to trouble.
It had been more than a decade since Crocodile had come to Mihawk with an idea.
His heart skipped a beat, but he urged it to calm. It was far too wounded to get caught up in such excitement now…so instead he placed his hand on the window. “You know most of the time you came up with an idea it wound up costing us. A ship. Precious time. Dignity.”
Crocodile huffed softly– a self-effacing laugh. "Might cost us more than that, this time. But it's not anything we wouldn't lose anyway. I don't want to talk about it too much over the transponder."
Crocodile had always hated them on principle. No way to know if someone was listening in. He only used them when the message was inconsequential, or he felt like he had no other choice.
Mihawk closed his sharp eyes for a moment. “Where shall we meet? I’ve sent my…” he wouldn’t call Perona a guest at this point…but.. “Companion…off for the moment. There’s no harm in me leaving the island for a time.”
"Meet me just short of paradise, Hawk. We'll get this idea cooking when you get there."
'Just short of paradise'-- another nostalgic turn of phrase. It was what they'd called one of the small islands in the new world just past Fish-man island– the one they'd used more than once to regroup and gather strength.
“Hah…” Mihawk was glad Crocodile couldn’t see the sharp smile that inched across his face. “but of course. I’ll meet you there, Crocodile. Try not to get lost without me.”
"Try not to get distracted on the way over." Crocodile couldn't see his smile– but maybe he could hear it, the same way Mihawk could hear his grin. "I'll be waiting."
Crocodile didn't say 'it'll be just like old times' before he closed the signal. But the smell of the phrase hung heavy in the air like the old captain's cigar smoke.
Mihawk waited until the line was well and truly dead to laugh, dropping the transponder snail’s receiver back onto the hook as he pressed his hand to his face with a ferocious smile.
“My captain’s back at it again, is he?” He mused as his fingers dragged down the front of his face. “...I wonder what finally lit that faded spark back to life.”
Grabbing his coat from the rack by the door he threw it over his shoulders with a last glance at the gloom out the window. “I suppose I’ll see for myself soon enough. For old times sake, Captain Crocodile.”
There were no marine ships visible in the harbor of Mystoria Island when Mihawk sailed into view of it, which was a good sign. There were no ships he recognized either, but that wasn't a surprise. Crocodile hadn't sailed in more than a decade– whatever ship he was sailing now wouldn't be the one that had made their last voyage.
That great ship had long been sunk. Sunk so deep it dragged Crocodile’s love of the sail down with it. It was little surprise it drove him to the safety of land in the same way it drove Mihawk to sail upon the sea in a simple ship of his own.
The small, coffin shaped ship drifted to the docks as he snapped his book shut and folded the sails.
HIs eyes scanned the shoreline, his keen vision still as sharp as ever as he looked for any sign of hidden danger or his former captain.
“I wonder if he’s been feeling nostalgic.” he drawled under his breath.
Few could have blamed Crocodile for being nostalgic here, if he was. The shoreline was much the same as it had been the last time either of them had set foot on the island, nearly 20 years prior. The rambling, scatter-shot shipyards, and the harbor bars, leading up through the town with its mismatched architecture styles.
Mystoria was one of the first three islands after crossing into the New World, and it was the lawless providence of mercenaries and pirates. An autumn-locked island it was cast forever in a gloomy haze that softened rough edges as much as it hid lurking danger.
Just short of paradise, indeed.
Mihawk adjusted the strap on Yoru and flung it over his back with a pensive hum.The nostalgia clawed its way inside his chest as he walked down the creaking old plank towards the ramshackle town.
Mystoria was a hive of backstabbing pirates and crooked mercenaries– but they were infinitely more trustworthy than the damned navy, down to every last man on the island.
The sense memory played in his mind as he strode past the weathered old signs. Back when he was a younger man, the hawk-eyed marine hunter, he’d walked through this town with the swagger that came from a life that had yet to have the dreams beaten out of it.
He smiled thinly at the memory of the blood splashing his cheek as he struck down some no-name coward who’d tried to get a drop on the recently increased bounties on Crocodile and Mihawk’s heads.
Many of the buildings that had been there when he was there last were gone or changed– but just as many of them remained. And one that did remain as he swaggered through the streets was the Ogre's Head. The pub was a favorite meeting place for pirate crews– and had been Crocodile's preferred meeting spot many years ago.
The titular 'head' was a faded wooden sign, but it was a point of local lore and pride that the original had once been an actual head, possibly that of a giant.
Mihawk chuckled once more to himself, pausing outside the pub with a wry edge to his smile. “I wonder if the old fool still runs the place.” He murmured as he pushed the door open to step inside.
As always the smell of the place hit him before the sight of it– dim and firelit. It smelled of charred grease and spilled beer and rum, of sweat and sea salt and bootblack, and a hint of gunpowder. The hall– its proprietor would never call it a 'dining room'-- was full of scattered rough hewn wooden chairs that could be replaced as needed, and stone and iron tables that couldn't be idly destroyed.
It was less crowded than Mihawk remembered it– but maybe that was because of just who was in it. The chatter between the scattered colorfully dressed and idiosyncratic patrons sitting around the tables mostly stopped when he walked in, as all eyes were on him. There were only two men at the bar, and both of them were Mihawk's fellow former warlords of the sea.
As Mihawk entered, Crocodile and Doflamingo both turned around from where they were drinking. Doflamingo– hunched in his enormous feather coat– stood and gave Mihawk a carefree salute, gesturing to the rest of the 'patrons' who all stood and made their way toward the stairs to the pub's back area.
The meaning of it was clear– not a threat, but giving him and his old captain space.
Crocodile was the only man left at the bar as he grinned, and raised his mug.
"I see you made it, Hawk."
“And I see it’s quite the grand reunion, Croc.” Mihawk glanced towards the retreating patrons and the flamboyant Doflamingo.
He walked over, and dropped onto one of the rough stools beside him. He turned, framed by the guard of his legendary sword as he leaned on one elbow with the trace of a smile. “You know, this takes me back.”
"Didn't seem right to start anywhere else," Crocodile grinned. He waved at the man behind the bar– far older and greyer than Mihawk remembered him, but still the same old man– and Mihawk was furnished with a drink. "Besides, this is where I knew you'd be able to find me without me saying."
Mihawk chuckled. “Yes…there’s no way I’d ever forget our time just short of paradise, Captain.”
Once he’d stood as the sword to Crocodile’s ambitions. Before they were warlords, they were a captain and his ferocious blade– but time and grief had whittled them each down into the shape the World Government had expected of them, to a point.
It was easy to remember the old days of the Marine Hunter and the ferocious Captain Crocodile here in this pub of memories. He raised the drink to his lips “if I remember, the last time we were here together, your nonsense set fire to the western district.”
Crocodile chuckled along with him, and slipped his hooked arm around Mihawk's shoulders "My nonsense, he says. As if you weren't right there with me trying to burn the louse out of his hidey-hole."
“I always had a problem being drawn into your nonsense.” Mihawk snorted softly, letting himself lean lightly against Crocodile– something he hadn’t done in all the years they were Warlords. It was a sign to the World Government…a dangerous sign of one Warlord with some presumed power over the other. It was a physical intimacy he hadn’t allowed himself again until very recently. “And we did flush him out in the end.”
"Damn right we did," Crocodile laughed. He leaned closer to him. He'd always respected Mihawk's aloof refusal to show intimacy where it could be seen by the world government– but it was clear that was done and over with. "And now here you are getting drawn into my nonsense again, eh?"
Mihawk’s arm reached out to wind his fingers through the scruff of Crocodile’s thick coat, meeting his gaze with his own sharp eyes.
“It seems. Like that whole mess with Roger’s golden coins…given the flamingo’s here too.” He chuckled, low and rumbling under his breath “and I still have no idea what asinine plan you’ve got up your sleeve this time.”
"Had to break the bastard out of marine custody– I'm damned if I'm gonna let him out of my sight after I went to the trouble." Crocodile shook his head. He pressed his cheek to Mihawk's and murmured. "As for my new asinine plan– you ready to hear it?"
“I”ll suffer his foolishness then. For you.” he mused with wry humor “...but I’ve been absolutely dying with curiosity , Crocodile. Especially after you neglected to include me in that little Utopia plan of yours.”
"Neglected to include you," he clucked. "When I told you I thought we needed an impregnable home base you told me to come to that miserable rainy island of yours. But hey, I'm giving you a second chance."
Mihawk sipped his wine.
“Kuraigana Island is beautifully defensible, Croc. It would have been far less lonely if you’d been there.” He leaned on his hand with a soft snort and a smile. “...you’re giving your old swordsman a second chance, hm? Another shot at your ‘utopia’?”
"Something like that, yeah," Crocodile nodded, still holding him close. "But I'll admit, I learned a valuable lesson when I got my ass handed to me two years ago."
“Not to make an enemy of a punch-happy princess?” Mihawk asked as his fingers brushed through the coat’s ‘fur’ before looping below to press against his back.
He laughed roughly. "Not exactly. Hell– that princess? We're friends now, you believe that Hawk? … friends."
Crocodile leaned into Mihawk's touch, and there was something vulnerable on his proud face.
Mihawk felt his expression soften as his fingers trailed against Crocodile’s back.
“I wouldn’t have expected that, Croc, not at all. Hah, I’ll have to ask what changed.” He closed his eyes “though, I’ve made unexpected bonds, myself.”
"That kid you were training?" Crocodile grinned. "Funny, him and the princess are on the same ship right now, unless something's gone sideways."
“That’s right.” Mihawk chuckled. “and Moria’s ‘Ghost Princess’, who I only just managed to convince to step out of harm's way.”
He leaned over, his hat bending to accommodate as he rested his cheek against Croc’s shoulder.
“It’s funny how fate conspires to give us a connection to the straw hats, hmm?” He chuckled softly “I’m pleased you patched things up…lesson learned, hm?”
"Lesson learned," he nodded. "That's why instead of looking for a super weapon, I'm going to build an army. An alliance. And we're gonna go after the navy, instead of waiting around for them to go after us. Sound like your kind of party?"
Mihawk’s sharp, hawk-like eyes focused in on Crocodile’s face as a vicious smile crawled over his lips.
“...my , Captain…no more waiting around and biding our time? No more cheap tricks?” He looped his arm around him to draw him closer “an all out war against the hated marines, making our stand like men? It sounds like my kind of party indeed.”
Crocodile put his hand to Mihawk's cheek, rubbing his thumb over the edge of his beard. "You were the first one I thought of when I decided. No more hedging my bets, Hawk, no more playing it safe. I'm ready to gamble– win or lose."
Mihawk’s eyes lidded, as he relished the long forgone intimacy they shared in the unchanged pub of their memories. His fingers traced down his back in thoughtful loops.
“If you’re ready to gamble it all, Crocodile…I shall gamble it all right beside you.” He smiled sharply “besides, I haven’t had a good battle in ages. Not since that mess in Marineford and my protege…if we’re going all in, I’ll wade into hell beside you. Just like the old days.”
"Just like the old days." Crocodile smiled a sad, nostalgic smile as he leaned his face in close, lit by the firelight. "Sorry it took so long."
“I’ll forgive you for it, Croc,” the swordsman hummed as he looked him deep in the eyes, noses nearly touching “as we make up for wasted time.”
"Cheers to that, Hawk."
Crocodile pulled him the rest of the way to his chest, and kissed him soundly on the mouth, not waiting for any further urging.
Mihawk’s lips met Crocodile’s, the taste of wine mingling between them as he leaned bodily into him with a quietly satisfied murmur.
It’d been a long time since they’d traveled together– a long time since the two of them had allowed themselves to be close to anyone, much less one another. His arm tightened around him as he deepened the kiss with a tingle of excitement in his long-cooled heart. It seemed once more they’d be facing the world at one another’s backs.